


Inexprimable Douceur

by mandilorian



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: A little bit of reincarnation, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Baking, Canon does not spark joy so I am fixing it, Christmas Fluff, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Getting Together, M/M, as a treat, holiday fluff, oblivious R, with sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 10:28:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27969086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mandilorian/pseuds/mandilorian
Summary: Prompt: Enjolras wants to make Christmas treats for the person he likes. Enjolras is a disaster in the kitchen and Grantaire is the best baker in their group of friends. Somehow, Grantaire ends up at Enjolras' apartment helping Enjolras bake for his mystery crush...
Relationships: Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 49
Collections: Les Mis Holiday Exchange (2020)





	Inexprimable Douceur

**Author's Note:**

> I set out to write unrepentant holiday fluff then somehow found this [explanation](https://just-french-me-up.tumblr.com/post/138296976671/je-crois-%C3%A0-toi-vs-je-crois-en-toi) on one of the last interactions between Enjolras and Grantaire and became weirdly fixated on changing it (at least in my head). Isn't it great when you thought you've made your peace with the brick then found out that "inexprimable douceur" was unjustly translated to "great sweetness" and cry for a day??
> 
> Extra kudos to my awesome beta [CX](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cx_shhhh/profile).Thank you for making sure this thing has actual grammar.

Grantaire didn’t know what he had gotten himself into. One minute they were having drinks at their annual Christmas party hosted by the Superior Triumvirate (or so they called themselves), and the next thing he knew, he had agreed to help Enjolras on a quest for true love or whatever.

Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta had the biggest apartment out of everyone in their group, and they took Christmas very seriously. Case in point, Joly was now on Bossuet's shoulders while wearing a massive 12-foot long Christmas tree costume that only the Lord knew how they managed to acquire. Musichetta was dressed as an actual star, but the height of their ceiling prevented her from getting on top of Joly too. No worries though, they assured everyone that the costumes fit _horizontally_.

The room was cozy from the glow of Christmas lights and an excessive amount of candles that smelled of pine and vanilla. Jehan and Marius were sprawling on the massive fuzzy rug on the floor, while Eponine and Cosette settled on the loveseat. Bahorel and Feuilly had gone out for a smoke on the freezing balcony a few minutes ago, but Grantaire could see their silhouettes from the living room created by the Christmas lights outside. His friends got progressively drunker and cozier as the hours went by and Grantaire marveled at his fortune. Even if he had nothing else, these misfits around him had made his life a remarkably lucky one. He was about to head out for a smoke himself when the subject changed to Christmas presents and he heard Courfeyrac’s high pitched squeal from the original trio’s corner. 

“Guys, GUYS, listen here. Enjolras is going to bake cookies for his crush and profess his undying love once and for all.”

“There is no undying love!” Enjolras yelped, trying in vain to cover Courfeyrac’s mouth before he shared any more with the class.

The room erupted with a lot of oohs and wolf whistles before Cosette recovered from the surprise announcement and confirmed that yes, Enjolras would be baking cookies. Yes, they were for his crush. No, said crush did not know about his feelings, and they were not thirteen would everyone please stop calling it a crush?

Grantaire felt his stomach clench slightly. He had always thought Enjolras was aromantic. The guy never seemed to care for a partner or any kind of relationship. Grantaire had known him for two years, and he never even let slip anything about a date or an attraction to anyone whatsoever (except maybe for _Rights of Man_ ). Enjolras the Perpetually Single was as constant to Grantaire as little dogs in winter coats or gravity itself. 

“You know, there is one problem with this plan,” Courfeyrac said, mischief shone in his eyes. “You do not know how to bake for shit, Enjolras.”

“I can follow a simple recipe,” Enjolras protested, ears flaming red.

“But the course of true love will not be charted with a simple shortbread. The object of your affection must be wooed, otherwise, you are just another friendly neighborhood liberal going around giving out basic cookies. I am talking cranberry white chocolate, gingerbread dressed like yourself, rose and pistachio macarons. The possibilities are endless.”

Enjolras winced, “Yeah, that is not going to happen.”

“But all you need is just a little help!” Courfeyrac exclaimed triumphantly. Grantaire saw Combeferre elbowing him discreetly and wondered what that was about when a very undeterred Courfeyrac continued, “R, you take occasional bakery orders, right? Like that time one of your students’ parents asked you to bake a dragon cake?”

Grantaire narrowed his eyes. Courfeyrac was up to no good, and the whole room could practically hear the gears whirring in his head, but Grantaire saw no way out of this. He had Facebook and Instagram accounts for his baking business. It was small, and the money barely covered the ingredients and his time, but he enjoyed the messiness and the creativity of the process anyway. The Amis had all been really supportive of this side hustle and most of them placed orders for a few dozen cookies or so occasionally. He was not exactly rolling in dough as a K-12 teacher.

“Yes,” Grantaire replied cautiously. “That was a few weeks ago though. I am a little rust—”

“Perfect!”-- Courfeyrac did not let him finish -- “you are free tomorrow, right? Why am I asking? It's the second day of winter break, so of course, you are free. You should totally help Enjolras with his quest.”

“No!” Enjolras piped up again. “I mean, Grantaire deserves some rest after herding first graders all year. I wouldn’t want to impose.” 

Enjolras looked desperate to let Grantaire off the hook, which of course made Grantaire want to do whatever it was Enjolras didn’t want him to do. 

“I would be honored,” he replied with his signature smirk. “One does not say no to true love.”

* * *

This was why he was standing in front of Enjolras’ building at one in the afternoon, carrying several bags full of ingredients, plus multiple piping bags and a variety of sprinkles. He pressed the doorbell, and Enjolras buzzed him in without a word.

He walked into Enjolras’ apartment and was astonished by a truly staggering number of baking equipment on one side of the kitchen counter. Enjolras had cleaned up the entire kitchen surface, it seemed. For a tiny kitchen, he had managed to free up a huge amount of space.

“Anything for love, huh?” Grantaire asked, slightly impressed.

“Oh shut up,” Enjolras replied easily. “You always said you needed the counter space when you bake, so I thought I’d at least prep that for you.”

Grantaire blinked, taken aback. He knew he had a tendency to ramble, so he was pleasantly touched that Enjolras actually listened to what he said. They were friends, after all, Grantaire reminded himself. The journey might have been rocky, but they were at the point where they occasionally texted, joked around without going too far, and on one strange occasion, had been left alone together because no one else wanted to watch a documentary about Eva Peron. (There’s a musical about that, Courfeyrac explained with obvious disbelief.)

The point was, they were friends, and friends listened to one another. This was nothing out of the ordinary, so Grantaire should not be floored by Enjolras meeting a minimum requirement of basic human decency. 

He cleared his throat. “Alrighty—” _What the fuck?_ “—what do you have in mind?”

Enjolras looked unsure. “Well, I was just going to make a plain shortbread because that was the only thing I know for sure how to do, but since you are here, what would you like to eat?”

“Aren’t we making cookies for your crush? How would I know what they’d like?”

“He.”

“What?”

“Well, they’re a he, if you must know. And I have seen him consume every single type of sweet under the sun, so anything you like should be good.”

Nope. No. Grantaire did not need to know that Enjolras liked men. It had never come up in conversation, and therefore, he had not realized that theoretically, they were compatible. A cozy apartment kitchen and close quarters were terrible ingredients for learning about one’s attractive friend. Trying valiantly to change the subject, Grantaire marched into the kitchen.

“How about we start with plain sugar cookies? We’ll divide the dough, add some chocolate chunks to one section and cinnamon to the other. Then we decorate them?”

“Perfect,” Enjolras said, grabbing two aprons hung by the kitchen door. “I love it when you take charge.”

Then he winked. He actually, genuinely, physically winked.

Was Enjolras _flirting?_ Was this a new, romantically inclined Enjolras that materialized because Combeferre installed an upgrade before the Christmas party last night?

Grantaire chuckled nervously and began pulling ingredients out of his canvas bags. He texted the recipe to Enjolras, who pulled it up on his iPad and set it on the counter. Enjolras paused for a few seconds and put a Christmas playlist on.

“Apollo, I didn’t know you possess such a strong Christmas spirit.”

“There’s a lot you still don’t know about me,” he said before smirking, which definitely shouldn’t be allowed for the sake of Grantaire’s sanity.

“For example, you didn’t know I could do this,” Enjolras continued, grabbing three oranges on the counter and juggling them. He looked so ridiculous in his reindeer sweater while frowning with such an intense concentration that Grantaire barked out a laugh.

“Oh my God, stop this madness. I can’t handle the amount of second-hand embarrassment right now.” 

“Hey! This is an insult to my very impressive hidden talent. I demand a duel for my honor,” Enjolras said between his own laughter. He threw an orange at Grantaire, who caught it easily. He began peeling the orange over the sink while telling Enjolras to get the butter out of the fridge and start measuring out ingredients.

The orange was actually pretty good, Grantaire thought absently while reaching for another one. He didn’t notice Enjolras moving towards him with a butter dish in hand, reaching for the mixing bowl next to him.

“Can I have some? I need my five a day,” he asked.

“They’re your oranges, you dork. Help yourself.”

Enjolras pouted at him and went on to complain about not wanting to get his hands dirty, how uncharitable Grantaire was since his hands were already full of sticky orange juice, and how some people just didn’t have it in themselves to share even when resources were abundant.

“Oh my fucking God, here you go, you big baby,” Grantaire said, shoving half an orange into his mouth. 

“Umm twank ewe,” Enjolras said with his mouth full like some kind of uncultured swine. He beamed at Grantaire and silently asked for more orange slices. Grantaire continued to feed him small pieces while the man read the recipe and got more ingredients out of the cupboard. At one point, both of them were occupied enough that Enjolras’ lips ended up grazing Grantaire’s fingers. Grantaire jerked his hand back and nearly jumped out of his own skin. Enjolras, however, seemed absolutely unfazed.

Grantaire felt ringing in his ears and the tips of his fingers felt hot, as if he had stuck them in a fire. Trying to calm his heart rate, he decided to bite the bullet while adding sugar into the bowl of softened butter.

“So, about this mystery crush. How come we’ve never heard of him until now?”

“Who said you haven’t? Maybe you just haven’t been paying attention,” replied Enjolras.

“You have mentioned him? How did I miss that? To be honest, we all thought you were ace or aro, so it’s definitely not just me.” 

Enjolras looked up from his attempt at creaming butter and sugar with a wooden spoon. Grantaire really should have brought his hand mixer for this endeavor. 

“You talked about me to other people? Who else among us had been gossiping about me?” Enjolras said with mock offense. “It couldn’t have been ‘Ferre or Courf. They know I’m demi.”

Ahh, there it was. Grantaire felt slightly ashamed for speculating about Enjolras’ orientation behind his back, but the man was so smart and charming that it was a mystery he was single for as long as Grantaire had known him. 

“Wait, if you are demi, you must know your crush pretty well then. Oh damn, is it Feuilly?”

_Please no, not Feuilly. Not anyone in the ABC, please, please, please._

Enjolras huffed a laugh, “Why? Do you want it to be Feuilly?”

Grantaire didn’t know what to say to that. He didn’t know how he even felt about that. It would just be weird, right? If all his close friends started dating one another. Except he was over the moon when Joly and Bossuet got together with Musichetta sophomore year. They practically threw a parade when Cosette and Eponine ended their excruciating mutual pining right before graduation last year too. Those relationships didn’t bother him, so why would the idea of Enjolras dating Feuilly seem so terrifying?

Maybe he just needed some new friends. Everyone pairing up was just putting pressure on him. Yes, that was it. He was going with that.

“Nah, I was just trying to guess,” Grantaire replied.

Enjolras moved to add the dry ingredients to the mixture and stirred the bowl with gusto. Grantaire moved to stop him.

“Ok, you don’t want to overmix it. Once you add the flour, just fold. Otherwise the cookies get too tough,” he said as he put the dough in some beeswax paper and wrapped them tightly. “Now we just need to chill these suckers in the fridge for a bit, so the butter doesn’t leak out.” 

Enjolras nodded and started the cleanup process while Grantaire got his icing collection out. They agreed on a simple white snowflake design that would hide any mistakes Enjolras would inevitably make.

“You know, the guy I like is a bit like Feuilly though, artistic, whip-smart, and just, really kind,” Enjolras said, out of nowhere.

“Great. He sounds great,” Grantaire swallowed. Of course, the guy was perfect. Beautiful, compassionate Enjolras deserved nothing less. Grantaire’s hands shook slightly on their own accord, and the more he thought about it, the more annoyed he felt. He took it out on the bowl of icing he had been mixing and stirred too enthusiastically. A glop of icing flew onto his face.

“Oof,” Enjolras said with a laugh. He brushed his thumb across Grantaire’s cheek to wipe the icing away, seemingly taking way too much care than the activity warranted.

He then slowly raised his thumb to his lips and swiped his tongue out to lick the icing clean.

Grantaire was going to have an aneurysm. 

This was the first time he remembered them touching intentionally. It sent a searing heat and a tremble through his whole body. Enjolras’s thumb was warm, but Grantaire’s face felt like a furnace. He had never felt something like this before, like Enjolras was in his very soul. He assumed this was how people felt when they got struck by lightning.

Goddamn it. Was he attracted to Enjolras? Was it just because the man expressed an interest in another person? Was he really that petty to think that Enjolras should be with no one and remain perfectly unattainable forever? Was this jealousy? He couldn’t sort out the jumble of thoughts in his head, and he sure as hell couldn’t try to reach a reasonable conclusion while standing two inches from Enjolras. 

The man in question looked at him coyly, unaware of the tempest of emotions taking place inside of Grantaire’s head. Enjolras moved closer, effectively trapping him in the corner between the counter and the wall. He tried to steady his breathing, tried being the operative word here. 

The kitchen was so small. It must have been impossible for Enjolras to miss the sound of his heartbeats pounding out of his skin. He could count the light freckles on the tip of Enjolras’ nose and smell the eucalyptus-scented shower gel from the exposed skin above his collar. They were a hairbreadth away from touching, but Enjolras moved closer still.

“Missed a spot,” he murmured, moving the pad of his thumb to the corner of Grantaire’s right eye. He bent over as if to examine more potential icing hazards, and Grantaire closed his eyes, lost in the feel of Enjolras’ touch on his skin when suddenly, the timer rang out.

They both jumped, and Grantaire was grateful for an excuse to release the breath he had been holding discreetly. He moved to get the chilled dough from the fridge while Enjolras preheated the oven. He floured the counter, letting his muscle memory take charge while willing his mind to quiet down.

They were cutting out the dough with Grantaire’s snowflake cookie cutters, but Enjolras was making a huge mess. Despite working with the exact same medium, Enjolras’ cookies were misshapen, missing a corner here and there, and Grantaire could sense the frustration creeping up on the blonde’s tense movements. 

“Alright, alright stop.” Grantaire couldn’t handle it anymore, the poor dough did not deserve to die for this. “Just, here, dip your cutter in some flour. Got it? Press down, lift up, no unnecessary twisting!”

Enjolras’ cut was somehow still a mess while Grantaire’s was perfectly sharp. Enjolras threw his hands up in frustration. “This is sorcery! You jinxed my dough and now it hates me!”

“Or maybe you just aren’t very good at it…”

“Not possible. I will perfect these cursed cookies even if it kills me.”

“You have issues, and I am neither paid nor have I taken enough psych classes to deal with this,” Grantaire said, startling a laugh out of Enjolras, which broke both of their control, and they were both shaking with the truth of that statement once they started. Enjolras really was stubborn to a fault, but his inability to give up was one of the best qualities. Enjolras had always burn bright with conviction and to see all that focus channeled into a bowl of dough was somewhat hysteric, to say the least.

Wiping tears from his eye, Grantaire moved to help the hapless aspiring pastry chef anyway. 

“You know, this is ridiculous, right? It is sweet that you want to do this, but the guy will love your gift no matter what. No one needs professionally decorated cookies to understand that someone likes them. He’s not Atalanta, golden apples are not required. Here, let me show you.”

He put his hand over Enjolras’ hand that was holding the cutter, the touch sending another jolt of current down his arm, and a wave of yearning so strong washed over him. His ears rang with the sound of fireworks? Guns? And for a second his vision blurred and he saw a different room, all wood and brass instead of Enjolras’ modern kitchen. The moment passed, Grantaire steadied himself, and he guided Enjolras’ hand firmly onto the dough. He ignored the drum beating in his heart while watching Enjolras try again.

“There! You got it! Your very first perfect cookie!”

Enjolras whooped and picked Grantaire up to spin him around the kitchen. He shrieked and threw his arms over the taller man’s shoulders for balance, clinging onto his neck while he screamed for Enjolras to put him down. 

Oh for fuck’s sake. 

He really did _like_ Enjolras. He spent half his time talking to the guy about all things under the sun. They could not even agree on breakfast cereals, but they always listened to one another. The texts. The movie. The chill that had run down his spine the moment Courfeyrac announced that Enjolras wanted someone else.

He was wrong. One could have an epiphany standing nose to nose with the object of their affection after all. Suddenly the room felt too hot. The ringing in his ears returned and his vision blurred again. He smelled something burning and now he had to get away, out of this room. Leave this apartment. Leave town if possible.

“So you basically put the dough in for twenty minutes and just scoop the icing into the piping bag here and go to town on them. Try it on some cardboard first to get used to the piping, ok? You have the recipe right? I think you got it from here. I’m just gonna—”

His escape attempt was cut short by Enjolras smearing icing on his lips and following it with a kiss. He grabbed Grantaire’s face in one hand and brought Grantaire’s closer by the waist with the other, pushing him against the counter. It was all-encompassing, the world narrowed down to just the two of them, spinning across time and space. Nothing existed except Enjolras’ lips on his, and he felt a strange sense of belonging washing over him. They had never even touched before, but kissing Enjolras was as familiar as breathing. He kissed with all the conviction Grantaire didn’t possess, and it was easy, too easy to let himself get drunk in the heady sensation. 

“No, not like this.” Grantaire gathered his wits and pushed Enjolras away. “We are doing all this for someone else. I am not going to just stand here and be your practice or whatever.”

He forced himself to step away before Enjolras pulled him back by his elbow. 

“R, what the hell do you think we were talking about earlier?” Enjolras, against all odds, looked amused by the turn of events. 

“What? I-” and he thought back, really thought about the clues. The demisexual explanation, the artist, the icing.

Holy shit. Grantaire was an idiot.

A slow smile spread on Enjolras’s face as realization dawned on Grantaire. He broke into a wide grin. 

“Are we good now? Can I please go back to kissing you? I don’t think I'd ever want to stop,” said Enjolras as he moved closer, and what was a man to do but let him.

Grantaire reciprocated with abandon now, assured of his place in Enjolras’ world. He held on tight, going up on tiptoes to get their lips impossibly closer. Enjolras let out a pleased hum and lifted Grantaire onto the counter, flour and food hygiene be damn.

Anchored on the solid surface, Grantaire wrapped his legs around Enjolras’ waist and let his hands roam free. He quickly found out how greedy he could be with something he’d never had before. How little drops of water could just make you more parched instead of sated, after all. He pulled the hem of Enjolras’ sweater down in his quest to get more skin, more Enjolras. He trailed open-mouth kisses down the other man's neck, delighted in the little gasps and shivers he was able to coax out of the action.

“Grantaire,” Enjolras panted out. He was not a follower by nature, and Grantaire knew he wouldn’t have the advantage for long. Sure enough, Enjolras slipped his hands up Grantaire’s hoodie, under his thin t-shirt and up his flanks, sending sparks everywhere. His hands changed direction and moved downward, cupping Grantaire’s back and pressing their straining erections together. They both groaned in a mixture of relief and desperation. 

“R,” Enjolras purred between his kisses, “Can this come off?” he asked, pulling up his top.

“Yes, yes, yes,” Grantaire replied. “Anything, everything.”

Enjolras, honest to God, growled and held him tight enough to thrust his hips straight up against Grantaire. The pressure was maddening since it was just enough to keep them wild, but nowhere enough to offer release.

“Don’t say that. Don’t say that right now,” Enjolras muttered while divesting Grantaire out of his hoodie and undershirt all in one go. He pulled back just enough to look at Grantaire with unmitigated hunger. Inspired, Grantaire dipped his index finger in the icing bowl, smeared a little on his chest and arched his back.

“I meant it. Take whatever you want,” Grantaire said. Enjolras took off his own sweater much faster than anyone would have thought possible. He bent over to lick Grantaire’s chest clean, lavishing special attention on his hardened nipples. He flattened his tongue on the sensitive flesh and grazed his teeth, then sucked and licked until Grantaire could do nothing but writhe and moan beneath him.

“Enjolras, come on, more please.” 

It was actually a miracle how long Grantaire had been holding out on begging. 

Thank fuck for Enjolras’ one-track mind as he palmed Grantaire’s painfully aroused cock through his jeans, pressing his hand down into his pants to pointedly to rub up and down the shaft. His other hand pulled Grantaire in for a searing kiss, all tongue and teeth, but he wanted more. He wanted Enjolras to devour him, wanted to be lost and found again and again in his arms. 

It was like Enjolras was able to read his mind. He picked Grantaire off the counter and dragged him into the living room, pushing him down on the large couch. 

“Won’t make it to the bedroom,” Enjolras grunted into his ears and the message went directly to Grantaire’s dick. He rutted up against Enjolras while doing his damnedest to rid the man of the rest of his clothes. He managed to undo the button, and Enjolras bit his ear as a reward. He kicked his jeans and boxers away while using his free hands to undo Grantaire’s in return.

“I don’t ever want to stop touching you. I think I’m going insane. How have we not touched before?” Enjolras mumbled into his neck, hands roving all over. “I want to touch you everywhere. See everything. I want you wrapped around me.” 

Grantaire whimpered. Speech-giving Enjolras was a sight to behold, but that has got nothing on dirty-talking Enjolras. Grantaire was giving Enjolras a run for his money on the subject of sudden onset insanity though, he pawed at Enjolras’ arms, pulling him up for more kisses while seeking more skin to touch. He moved back and trailed his hand down Enjolras’ stomach, following the thin golden trail that led down to an impressive erection. Enjolras whined when he stopped right at the base, but Grantaire only brought his hand up and licked a wet strip on his palm. 

Enjolras gaped, jaw slacked as if entranced and Grantaire took pity on him. He cupped Enjolras firmly with his hand in a ring and stroked him, thumbing at the leaking tip. He made to get up for a closer examination when Enjolras pushed him flat on the cushion. He put one knee on the side of Grantaire’s head, the other foot planted firmly on the ground. Grantaire darted his tongue out to finally get a taste of Enjolras, but the bastard moved away.

“Do you want it? Show me how much you want it,” Enjolras teased and moved back a fraction more. It was clear he wanted to see Grantaire reach for him, to show him how desperate for his cock Grantaire was. He obliged, surging up and grabbing Enjolras’ hips in his hands, kneading gently. He pulled Enjolras in and closed his lips around the straining flesh. He licked and sucked a little, tasting salt and going back for more. He ran his tongue up from root to head, giving every inch luxurious attention. He pressed his tongue against the top of Enjolras’ cock and flattened it for the underside. Grantaire relaxed his throat, trying to take more of Enjolras in and gagging from the lack of practice.

Enjolras let out a breathy moan and fisted Grantaire’s hair in his hand. He sucked harder, preparing to get his face deliciously fucked when Enjolras pulled away.

“I want to fuck you, R. Do you want me to?”

Grantaire got impossibly harder and pleaded, “Oh God, yes. Please yes. Do it now.” 

Enjolras smiled, satisfied. He left to retrieve supplies from the bathroom and Grantaire gave himself a soft stroke to tide him over while waiting. When Enjolras returned, instead of rushing back, he sucked in a breath and stood over the couch, watching Grantaire with dark eyes.

“Yes, show me how you like it,” Enjolras ordered, moving to kneel at the end of the couch. Grantaire obeyed, he would have done anything the man asked at this point. He gripped himself a little tighter, wanting Enjolras to see everything. He sucked a finger in his mouth and moved to open himself up while his other hand kept up the stroking. Grantaire had been on edge since he blew Enjolras earlier, and he didn’t know how much longer he could hold off. Then, Enjolras batted his hand away and replaced it with lips.

“Oh fuck. Oh God, Enjolras--I’m gonna come. Please, please, please, let me come,” Grantaire begged with unintelligible noises. He was so close, and Enjolras’ tongue was so warm. He wanted nothing more than to come in his mouth, and his hips thrust forward on their own accord. Instead of continuing, Enjolras stilled him with one hand and squeezed the base of Grantaire’s cock with another, making him jump.

“Not yet. Stay with me, yeah? I’ll make it worth the wait,” Enjolras said while pouring lube into his palms, rubbing them together and slick his fingers up. He put his mouth back on Grantaire and circled his thumb on the entrance, and Grantaire keened. 

Enjolras’ lips moved on to the inner side of Grantaire’s thighs, and he alternated between reverent kisses and bruising bites, making his toes curl. He got two more fingers in, lighting Grantaire up with every move he made, and Grantaire thought he might actually die if Enjolras kept this up any longer. Thankfully, Enjolras withdrew his fingers, and Grantaire decided to take matters into his own hands. He pushed himself out of the couch to kneel in front of Enjolras and grabbed the condom. 

Grantaire looked up into Enjolras’ eyes and used his hands and mouth to put the condom on. He added more lube before he got up and bracketed Enjolras with his knee. The blonde pulled him in for a savage kiss when Grantaire slowly sank down, hands clutching the back of the couch in a death grip so strong, his knuckles had gone white.

“God, Grantaire, you are so fucking tight. You are going to make me come right now. Fuck, am I going to hurt you?” Enjolras panted out, jaws set, visibly fighting the urge to thrust up and get the friction he needed. Grantaire shivered at the thought and let Enjolras suck blood bruises into his neck while he pushed all the way down. He'd wanted to draw the pleasure out for as long as he could, but the need to feel all of Enjolras won out.

Enjolras gripped his hips hard enough to hurt, and the pain was exquisite, grounding him, sending sparks to his whole body from the spot where he rode up and down. Grantaire adjusted the angle, leaned back and felt the head of Enjolras’ cock brushing his prostate. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck- right there. Enjolras, don’t stop please, I’m gonna come, please-” Grantaire screamed. He lifted up almost entirely off Enjolras and plunged back down. Enjolras took advantage of Grantaire’s movement and thrust his hips up to meet him halfway, slamming harder and harder into Grantaire. 

“Is this good for you? _Fuck_ \- tell me it’s good, R,” Enjolras demanded into his ears between each move. He took Grantaire’s straining cock in his hand and jerked him off roughly, eliciting more broken whines and whimpers out of him.

Grantaire was reduced to nothing but sensation. He felt Enjolras moving in and out of him, each thrust vibrating through his entire body. He wailed when Enjolras’ hand stroked him, bringing him closer and closer to the finish line. He wanted to come more than anything, but at the same time, he never wanted Enjolras to stop taking him like this.

“So good, yes. You are so good to me and I-ahh-want you to do me forever. Just like this. Oh God—” Grantaire was cut off by his own orgasm, spilling all over Enjolras’ hand and stomach. He was still riding high on the onslaught of pleasure when he felt Enjolras pushing him onto his back and ramming into him viciously. The sight of him spilling must have done something to Enjolras. Grantaire was still moaning incoherently when Enjolras pulled out and ripped the condom apart to come all over his chest.

“Jesus Christ, R,” Enjolras said while lying next to him, breathing heavily. “I can’t believe we waited so long for this. I should have fucked you in the back of the Musain six months ago.”

“Six months ago?” Grantaire wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. Enjolras, clearly still basking in the afterglow, huffed in amusement instead of exasperation and cleaned them both up with a throw blanket before settling back down.

“Yeah, you got under my skin like nothing else. First, you were irritating, then you were not, then you were fun to be around, and _then_ I realized that I actually hate it when you’re not around,” Enjolras said between bestowing butterfly kisses all over Grantaire’s face. “You were on my mind more and more each day, and lately I’ve been having very impure thoughts about us.”

“Ooh, do tell me more about these thoughts,” Grantaire wheedled, nuzzling Enjolras’ neck to sweeten the deal.

“Ha. The usual stuff, I guess?” Enjolras pulled him closer, resting his chin on top of Grantaire’s head. “Kissing, cuddling, this-” He ran his hands down Grantaire’s back and squeezed his ass for emphasis. “I also dreamed about us, a lot. Sometimes, just like this, sometimes, in an old shabby room full of candles.”

“To set the mood?”

“Not really, more like we were in a different time somehow, cravats and waistcoats and all that. Strange, right?”

Grantaire thought back to the flashes of visions and the longing he felt when he'd first touched Enjolras. He pressed closer, wanting to crawl inside of the man’s skin again, and felt Enjolras’ answering smile in his hair.

“No, it’s all good.”

**Author's Note:**

> [This](https://smittenkitchen.com/2019/12/unfussy-sugar-cookies/) is the sugar cookie recipe Grantaire used and and yes, they went back and put the cookies in the oven. I know we are all worried about that.
> 
> \- And I got a [tumblr](https://themandilorian.tumblr.com/)! Come say hi!


End file.
